- The NFL in the 1970s: Pro Football's Most Important Decade
- Free Spirit at Free Safety: The Incredible (but True!) Football Journey of Bill Bradley
- The 2,003-Yard Odyssey: The Juice, The Electric Company, and an Epic Run for a Record
- The Year the Packers Came Back: Green Bay's 1972 Resurgence
- America's Trailblazing Middle Linebacker: The Story of NFL Hall of Famer Willie Lanier
- Free Spirit at Free Safety: The Incredible (but True!) Football Journey of Bill Bradley
Thursday, May 21, 2026
Review: From the Outhouse to the Penthouse: The Football Journey of Hall of Famer Larry Little
Tuesday, May 19, 2026
The Curious Case of the Phantom Sack: Clay Matthews, Elvis Franks, and a 1983 Milwaukee Mystery
by Nick Webster
If you've spent any time digging through old play-by-plays, you know the drill. The official record says one thing, the film says another, but as they say, "the eye in the sky never lies". This week brought a beauty of a mistake in the official record.
The setting: Cleveland at Green Bay, November 6, 1983, County Stadium in Milwaukee. Yes, the dreaded Milwaukee crew — a phrase that means something to anyone who's tried to reconcile Packers home stats from that era. Second-and-eight from the Green Bay 21. Lynn Dickey drops back and goes down for a sack, "and he will go down in a heap, Clay Matthews and Bob Golic back there," the play-by-play man announces.
But the game's official play-by-play credits Elvis Franks on his way to a 5-sack season. Pro Football Reference will tell you Elvis Franks got him. The 1984 Browns Media Guide — well, that's where things get interesting. It tells you both stories at once, depending on which page you're reading.
Roll the film.
What you actually see is four Browns rushing the passer: Reggie Camp (96), Keith Baldwin (99), Bob Golic (79), and Clay Matthews (57). The announcers identify Matthews getting home and mention Golic arriving as cleanup, jumping on the pile after Dickey is already being brought down. Standard stuff. The kind of sack where the credit is obvious if you're watching, and only becomes confusing if you're not.
The problem is that Elvis Franks (94) doesn't appear to be on the field at all. The Browns' personnel grouping looks like 48, 56, 51, 29, 49, and 50 behind the four rushers, plus presumably another defensive back to round out the eleven. Franks is nowhere in the picture. He's a phantom. A ghost on the box score.
So how does a guy who wasn't on the field get a sack on the official record?
Here's where Eric Goska's detective work pays off — and where you start to appreciate how this stuff actually gets corrupted in the historical record. The 1984 Browns Media Guide is the source of truth here, in the season statistics section at the back, Matthews is credited with 7 sacks (vs the league's 6) and Franks with 4 (vs the league's 5). The individual player profile at the bottom of each players profile page lists the same: 7 and 4. But then you read the narrative text under Franks' profile, and it specifically mentions a sack in the Packer game — and 4 other sacks, adding up his season total to 5.
Two different numbers in the same media guide. For the same player.
What almost certainly happened: the coaching staff watched the film, charted the sacks correctly, and credited Matthews. Their internal totals — the ones that fed the statistics pages — reflect what actually happened on the field. But when somebody in the PR department sat down to write the prose summaries for the media guide, they pulled from the official NFL play-by-play. The erroneous one. The one the Milwaukee crew turned in. And so Franks got a write-up crediting him with a sack he didn't have, against a team he may not have even been on the field against during that particular snap.
This is the kind of thing that should haunt anyone who works with historical defensive stats. The official record isn't always the correct record — and when contemporaneous sources disagree with themselves, you've got a real puzzle. The coaches knew. The film knows. The Milwaukee stat crew apparently did not.
Sack goes to Matthews. His second of the day. Franks drops to 4, where the Browns' own coaches had him all along.
The search continues.
Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Rethinking NFL All-Decade Teams: Why Mid-Decade Rosters Capture Peak Greatness
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Wednesday, May 6, 2026
Book Review: Race and Football in America: The Life and Legacy of George Taliaferro
By Jim Holt
As a college sophomore at Indiana University in the late 70s, Dawn Knight enrolled in a class on social justice being taught by a Professor George Taliaferro. She had no idea of his background and only later came to know him as an inspiration, a trailblazer, and a personal friend.
In "Race and Football in America", Knight writes a complimentary biography of Taliaferro, the football player and man. Growing up in a relatively color-blind, integrated Gary, Indiana, neighborhood, Taliaferro had to adjust to the racial policy (at the time) of segregated schooling.
College interrupted his military service (this was the 1940s); he returned to Indiana in 1947. Author Knight writes extensively about the segregated conditions in Bloomington and IU during Taliaferro’s time there, and provides numerous examples where George quietly but firmly leveraged his gridiron celebrity to break norms and open doors for people of color.
The post-WWII evolution of pro football provided opportunity for African American players unknown since the 1920s ... Taliaferro had verbally committed to the AAFC Los Angeles Dons, when he learned that he was the first black player ever drafted by the NFL (Chicago). The Bears had been his dream team as a schoolboy, but true to his word, he signed with and played for the Dons in 1949.
Knight shares highlights of Taliaferro’s circuitous pro career; as PFJ and readers know, after the merger, he spent 1950 and '51 with the New York Yanks, 1952 with the legendary (star-crossed) Dallas Texans, was an early hero for the 1953-54 Baltimore Colts, and when injuries hobbled him, had a cup of coffee with the 1955 Eagles before hanging it up.
"Race and Football in America" doesn’t delve deeply into a season-by-season detailing of his career, but rather stresses his contribution to breaking down the racial barriers existing in the game at the time. Notwithstanding, she makes the case for his football greatness. As many on this board are aware, the 1940 (7-5) Yanks excepted, he played the rest of his career on some of the worst teams in NFL history, compiling a total record of 16 wins and 53 losses.
Despite running for most of his career behind "suspect" blocking, George averaged 4.5 yards per carry over his 7 years. He was named to the Pro Bowl the first 3 years it existed, and was second-team All-Pro for the woeful Texans. Interestingly, he consistently denied that he was the first black NFL quarterback, always naming the (1953) Bears' Willie Thrower as the first. As he explained, "I did throw 96 passes in the NFL, but always from the halfback or tailback position. Thrower was the first under center."
When his playing days ended, Taliaferro struggled to find a place in the world unrelated to his athletic exploits; Knight walks us through his journey, gravitating towards social work, and his time concentrating on prison populations. Later, he became Dean of Students at Morgan State University, moved on (or back) to IU, where he served for years as Special Assistant to the President.
"his was a life well lived."
Overall, this is a fine biography of a significant person in pro football history. Knight takes great pains to connect Taliaferro’s experience with the challenges of black players that followed. In the reviewer's view, the 25-40 pages recounting Marlin Briscoe, Colin Kaepernick, et al. are irrelevant to Taliaferro’s story. Consider it a respectful disagreement with the author and overall a minor quibble. One very much appreciates the large number of photographs that enhance the narrative and portray the protagonist in so many different lights.
A fine read. Grade: B
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